


Catch Us If You Can

by lazyhealer



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1444942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyhealer/pseuds/lazyhealer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Police constable Jean Kirschstein encounters the dangerous trio who have been causing havoc in Trost city, robbing politicians and celebrities of their wealth and most private possessions. However, he failed to catch the criminals and ended up being pulled into an unravelling mess that consumes all who know about it. The very backbone of the city is built on lies and scandal, leaving the humble officer wondering as to which side of the law he truly sits on.</p><p>"The years of plenty are over, my friends..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“A series of robberies by an unknown trio have taken place over the last few days. Witnesses describe the three as being of young age and of medium height, but no other description of their appearance has yet been gained. The targets seem to be well-to-do members of society, such as Shadow Minister of Healthcare, the right honourable Dot Pixis, and opera star Petra Ral. The police currently have no idea of the whereabouts of this band of teenage criminals, leading us to wonder whether the Trost police department is any use to us at all. Back to you, Bob.”

A man angrily slammed the television, turning it off in the process before storming over to the coffee machine, which groaned in response, clearly an old model that needed replacing. Once his cup had been filled, he drank the steaming hot drink instantly but seemed unaffected by it.

“Twenty years I have run this police department. Twenty years! And now some brats are making fools out of me and my force, out of you lot of bumbling buffoons. Not one piece of evidence was left, not a single witness who saw them fully or a CCTV camera that caught them in the act and we don’t even know who they’ll hit next.”

“Marco and I will patrol the richie district later on and see if we spot anything, Shadis.” The man grunted with a tone of neither affirmation nor rejection to the horse-faced officer, just annoyance and acceptance. The bald man slammed the door of his office shut, rattling the desks and even creating a draft so big it blew some papers off his assistant’s desk. The woman tottered around her desk and somehow bent over in her pencil skirt to collect the scattered papers.  
“Come on freckles, let’s get going.”

“Jean, will you please stop calling me that.” The ash blonde threw freckles the car keys, and the two proceeded to the parking lot behind the building.

They drove around the wealthy district for the majority of the night, not really seeing much. Marco was at the wheel and focused on the road ahead, which Jean did as well as scouting his surrounding for an hour or so until he decided he should try and distract his partner. Marco didn’t respond when he had a McFonald’s straw shoved in his face, which Jean then pretended was a microphone and proceeded to sing eighties ballads into, but he slammed on the brakes, causing Jean to headbutt the dashboard when Jean went tickle his neck.

“I swear to God, touch my neck-“ Marco was silenced as Jean slammed a hand over his mouth and pointed to a black van with three teens climbing out of it and quickly vaulting over a fence of one of the properties. Marco pulled over, not driving on too much further as they hadn’t been noticed.

“That has to be them. Three teens of average height, they fit description. You go and wait by the front gate and I’ll follow them over the fence.”

“I have my radio if you need me.” Jean nodded and the two proceeded to their respective positions, Marco scouting out the front whilst Jean followed the band of criminals into the garden. He landed on the soft grass after climbing over with a bit too loud of a thump, but he pressed on, dreaming of his promotion now not out of his reach. He and Marco would be the top shots, Shadis kissing their ass. Jean was snapped out of his reverie by a weak voice coming from by the pool.

“Eren, I don’t know about this. I thought I saw the police.” A blonde boy mumbled and rubbed his hands together nervously. 

‘He’s the best target: weak, nervous and conscious of the law, he will be easy to catch. Plus he’s only about two feet tall.’ The ash blonde almost laughed when he thought about how nobody had caught them. They really were just a bunch of kids.

“Stop worrying Armin. Nobodies around and we’ve already done this like five times now. They can’t even send out patrols to look for us. It’s pathetic. I was hoping for more fun.” The cocky brunette spoke a little too loudly for a heist and put his hand on the blonde boy’s shoulder reassuringly.

Jean watched and waited, making sure to turn off his radio so Marco didn’t ruin his claim to police fame. The brunette picked the lock of one of the larger windows, pulling it all the way open. Jean bode his time until the girl had gone into the house and the brunette was halfway through the window before stepping out with his gun in hand, still in safety mode as the teens would easily be taken without a fight.

“Stay where you are and put your hands above your head.” The blonde stiffened in panic and Jean smiled with glee.

“Eren, get Mikasa and run. Don’t go through the front; the police work in pairs so the other one will be out there. I’ll handle this.”

Jean cocked his head, unable to hear what the nervous blonde had said. The brunette dashed into the house out of Jean’s sight, but he kept his gun aimed at the blonde. If he could just arrest one, then he could get him to speak and get the other two also. He waited until the blonde had raised both hands in the air.

“Now turn around slowly.” The blonde did, blue eyes watery with fear. “Armin, was it? I don’t want to hurt you, so don’t make any sudden movements. I want you to walk towards me, keeping your hands in the air. Is that okay?” Armin nodded and looked down, covering his eyes with his fringe. He walked closer until he was about two metres away from the officer. Armin snapped his head up, eyes now ablaze, throwing Jean off, causing the officer to falter and step back.

“I’m not really scared of dying – I mean there’s much worse in life. But, Officer,” the word was drawled out and the final syllable was punctuated with a large step forward, reducing the space between to two men greatly, “when I speak, I speak with honesty. And I must say this… you have a very nice gun.” The blonde stroked along the top of Jean’s weapon, snapping the safety lock off, then pressed himself flush against the man’s chest.

“Wh-what are you doing!?” The officer flushed bright red, body frozen still in shock. Armin placed his hands on the man’s waist, stood on his toes and kissed Jean softly. He then pulled he gun towards his head.

“Shoot me.”

“Look, kid. Whatever you’re playing at then you better sto-oh.”

“If I pull your trigger…” The blonde chuckled and pushed his hand against Jean’s groin, causing him to moan. “Then maybe you’ll pull that trigger.” Armin continued grinding against the taller man who was now so confused that he remained completely still, hoping not to shoot his gun that was placed in the younger’s soft, delicate hair.

Armin moved onto his knees, pulling on the black belt that Jean had on. Jean saw his chance and placed his free hand behind his back, reached for his cuffs and locked one around the blonde’s wrist. The boy, however, carried on with his actions and had opened the belt and moved onto the buttons. Jean closed the other side of the handcuff around his own wrist, making sure the other boy couldn’t get away, and lifted the blonde up from the floor.

“Spoiling my fun.”

“Sorry, kid. Maybe if the circumstances weren’t so strange and you were a woman.” Jean snapped the safety back on his gun and put it back into the holster, trying to drag along the boy with a serious case of personality change. Where had the weak, naïve boy gone?

“Please! I can’t! No!” The blonde started sobbing and threw himself on the ground, pulling Jean’s arm down, forcing him to squat next to the crying boy whom he patted on the shoulder awkwardly. “I didn’t even want to do this. I-it was Eren. He dragged me along and…” more sobs ensued, with Jean now feeling confused all over again.

‘Damn, this boy is a piece of work. If I can just get him to the car.’ But before Jean could make a plan the boy had pushed him on his back and was now pulling down the officer’s zipper. The blonde palmed Jean through his boxers, but Jean pushed the boy off him.

“You’re not really smart, are you? You must be one of those bozo officers who are used for park patrol and shit.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that Jean Kirschstein is the best damn police officer this city has seen!” Jean reached out to grab the boy, and then he was handcuffed to himself. He looked at his hands in chains and then back up at the blonde who was holding the keys.

“I’m sure you are. But I hope you can swim well.” With that Armin threw the keys into the watery depths. He kissed Jean on the cheek, grabbed the gun and fired two shots into a tree. “Now your partner will find you in this state. Pants pulled open, an erection and handcuffed; it’s like bad BDSM.”

The boy ran off down the garden, but turned back and smiled at the officer, leaving his parting words:

“I hope we meet again. I mean you seem like you could be a big influence on me.”

The blonde escaped, jumping over the fence and zooming off in the black van. Jean bashed the ground with his fists, then he attempted to wrangle himself back into a state of decency, failing miserably in the handcuffs. He heard footsteps, so he pivoted in his seated position and saw Marco running up to him.

“Are you okay? I heard shots.” 

“I’m fine. Let’s just say I got outwitted.”

“I can tell. We should go back to the station and report this to Shadis.”

***

Shadis was furious, and even saying that was most likely and understatement to what the man was actually feeling. If he were able to get away with it, he would have probably strangled Jean then used his dead body to kill Marco. The two nervous officers stood silently as their boss clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly in some attempt to calm himself down.

“You’re telling me that not only did you let that band of hooligans escape, but one of them was also able to handcuff you to yourself, take your gun and could have potentially killed you. My God, are you idiots or what.”

“It was my fault, sir. Marco had nothing to do with this.”

“Very noble, Kirschstein. But he was with you, so he is also equally an idiot.”

“However, sir, I do believe I overheard the names of two of the three.”

“At least you can do something. Go file your report and go home.” And with that, the man had shooed them out of his office and slammed his door for the second time. Both officers did as instructed, filing a report of the night’s events with Jean missing out certain parts that may or may not have made him the laughing stock of the whole department. Jean thought about what had happened, how he had let some kid get the better of him.

He rubbed his face in frustration, hair ruffled out of place from the action. He blushed as he recollected the blonde’s actions. Armin. Or at least that was what “Eren” had called him. He had the bluest eyes Jean had ever seen, and was arguably prettier than some of the girls he had dated, hell, probably even the majority of them. He was petite, with soft features and delicate, pale skin.

‘Shit, Jean, you’re straight for god’s sake. You shouldn’t be thinking about a boy who beat you up like this. It was just so strange… It was as if he had become a completely different person, but it was still him. Either he has some serious personality issues or he is one good actor.’ Jean looked down to see he had ended up drawing circles one the corner of his report, but too lazy to change it, he just put it in for processing.

Jean waved Marco off, and he set off on his drive home. The air in Trost lay still, bustling one of the oaks that lined the road every now and again so its leaves quivered ever so slightly, one breaking free every now and again and falling to the floor. Jean drove along the river that lay at the edge of Trost; a wide body of water, it was also used for swimming in the summer, the government even investing in sand banks for it. Memories of times spent with his family or significant others rushed into his mind, leaving him with a lingering sense of nostalgia.

He parked up in front of an old, three-story town house that stood by the riverside, switched off the engine and locked the car before walking up to the door, and after a time spent fumbling through his keys, he found the one for the front door. He climbed up the narrow stairs to the third floor, his penthouse flat. He threw his uniform off, leaving it draped over the back of the sofa and walked round in his boxers and socks, gliding along the tiled kitchen floor. He switched on the docking station, blasting out a new cheesy pop song by the Titan Girls.

The booty was being shaken as the microwave rattled away warming up leftovers that his mother had brought over the night before; she had left it so she knew that her son was actually “eating healthily” and not just living on ready meals and fizzy drinks. Jean assured her that as a cop he couldn’t have an unhealthy lifestyle: he ate his greens and went for a run every morning he was off duty. Plus, he also had his surprise dance sessions in the kitchen, pretending he was a rock star or some Bollywood artist. He liked to live by the motto, ‘shake what your mother gave you’, and so he did. He shook it at home, in clubs, even with Marco, who had become used to his crazy antics after three years of being partners.

He ate, showered and headed to bed. Comfy in a pair of stripy pyjamas he tucked himself under the covers, making sure to set his alarm for morning. Jean was all about ready for sleep except for the one thing on his mind, the blonde boy with an attitude. The events would replay, Jean remembering each little detail with precise clarity. How had someone so young and weak gotten the better of him? Was his weakness just an act he put on around the others, or was the side Jean saw his fake side, a split self of survival that came out in the toughest of situations? Unable to come to an answer, the officer lay on his back and stretched one hand in the air.

“I will catch you, Armin.”

***

“What is it, Armin?”

“Nothing. I thought I heard my name.”

The blonde boy sat in a chair, his hands trembling and eyes dark with fatigue and stress. He examined his fingers, which had clawed up and twitched violently, adrenaline and fear still pumping through them with intense vigour.

“Woah, you’re really shaking. You really saved us back there though. Me and Mikasa would never have been able to run away. Smart thinking about the other cop as well!” Armin felt the need to correct his friend regarding his bad grammar, but could barely speak a word or even think straight. He had shut down all extraneous thought and functioned on fast thinking when dealing with the bumbling cop, who, with strong arms, had caught the attention of the blonde for all the wrong reasons.

Eren sat at the wheel of the getaway vehicle, with his adopted sister at his side in the passenger seat and Armin resided on one of the bench seats in the back, behind the cab. Eren would occasionally glance back to check on his friend, then Mikasa would smack him on the arm for not keeping his eyes on the road. They drove out of the city on a small country road which lead to a lake nearby. It was about forty minutes until they arrived, pulling up at an old thatch cottage that sat on a hill overlooking the large body of water.

“It’s hard to believe we grew up down there.” Eren whistled lamentingly and walked inside the building, leaving the blonde and his sister to look at their old home.

“Thanks for making sure Eren got out.”

“He’s as much my brother as he is yours.”

To that she nodded and headed inside herself, allowing Armin to have some time to himself. He strolled down to the water’s edge, kicking up a few ripples whilst trying to peer down into the murky depths. On a bright day when the lake was clear, you could still see some of the houses that remained standing as the valley slowly filled up. Lake shiganshina; once a bustling market town that no longer remained.

The stars reflected in the water, preserving some tranquillity. However, the churning of turbines from the hydroelectric dam created a low, constant rumble that pervaded every single morsel of air around, disturbing the peace that could be. Lights flickered on and off in the work stations built within the wall of concrete, and the occasional worker or security guard paraded across the top, scanning for intruders or jumpers. The dam had been a popular site for suicide when it had first opened, the majority being men or women who had lost their careers in the flooding of their town. There was a literal blood stain on the creation of the green powerhouse that politicians easily masked with a few nice press releases on how much money was being saved on energy. Money over lives.

“Are you coming, Armin?”

“In a minute.” The blonde waved his friend in, hiding the wallet in his hand. He opened it up, reading the information inside.

 

Jean Kirschstein  
Police Constable  
Trost Police Department  
111-2681-932

 

Next to the script on the badge was a picture of the neutral-faced officer the wallet belonged to, the man on Armin’s mind.


	2. Chapter 2

The city of Trost glimmered as it woke from its nightly sleep, lights flickering on in the many houses as the people rose from their beds and went about their morning routine. The birds hummed in many keys, singing many tunes that littered the air with a pleasant echolalia that could only be described as natural and harmonic, a light sonata for the ears. Their counterparts the little creatures scuttled for breakfast, the bees floating on a breeze, off on their hunt for dewy pollen and the worms peeping out from the damp ground as to whether the day will be perfect for them.

Jean jogged down the river, matching the natural ebb and flow of the wide body of water. Riverboats crawled their way down, some of the captains waving to Jean as his morning runs matched their schedules so often that they had developed some sort of acquaintanceship simply due to how many times they had seen each other. Often the men of the water would put their boats’ engines into full power and challenge the officer to a race, but this morning they just waded with an easy pace.

Officer Kirschstein ran the same distance each time, three kilometres away from his home and then the same length returning, taking him roughly half an hour. Sometimes, however, he would stop for coffee at a marina café run by two men of curious disposition, one being a tall and handsome blonde and the other a shorter man with a cold personality. Both attracted a fan base, but attracted an equal number of rumours regarding their ‘living situation’ as the older women who dropped in called it. Regardless of who or what they were, they could make a beautiful cup of joe, the shorter chiefly crafting rich blends and smooth Americanos whilst the taller served lattes and iced drinks with sublime taste and feeling.

The door to the place jingled as it opened, the old French bell above catching purposely to which the only two occupants turned to look at Jean. Earlier than normal customers, Jean had actually wandered in once before The Surveyor actually opened in the hopes of getting a drink, only to be turned away. The baristas, however, pitied Jean and allowed him to stay in, and it had become tradition for him to come before opening and purchase the first batch of coffee. Every now and again he would be treated with a new drink and functioned as chief tester for anything new that may be added to the menu.

“Morning.” The ash blonde entered, walking over to the counter, but confused as Erwin and Levi weren’t present.

“I’ve told you Erwin, for fuck’s sake no.”

“Those kids need people to help them, and we’ve been looking to adopt for a while.” The voices were distant but increased in volume, indicating they were moving closer. “It may not be what we wanted, but maybe it’s better that way.” Erwin’s voice carried a gentle firmness to it, as if it were suggesting but having an authority that made the idea unquestionable.

“I know I may not seem like it, but I want a baby. Shitting and screaming and all the rest that comes-“ Levi stopped dead as he spotted Jean who had now taken to looking out of the window in the hopes of pretending he heard none of it, but the awkward smile he had on his face as he turned around indicated just how much he had been privy to.

“Sorry about that.” The officer mumbled and got ready to leave, rubbing the back of his head as he turned on the heel of his running shoe.

“Stay. It was our fault.” Levi, as welcoming as ever, pointed towards Jean’s usual seat, and the ashen obeyed and sat rigidly, not moving in order to avoid offending the shorter of the couple even more. The espresso machine gnarled and gnashed as it was first switched on, grinding coffee beans a boiling water all at the same time creating a headache’s worth of noise. Whilst the coffee maker burned away, the baristas spoke in hushed tone, casting furtive glances at Jean who remained still, a light blush slowly beginning to creep onto his face.

The shot of espresso was added to a tall glass, then topped up with water, Levi adding a dash of vanilla infused sugar to the drink, knowing his customer’s taste well. He strolled to Jean’s table with a dangerous look hanging onto his face; Levi placed the coffee down and slid the glass over to the officer who went to pick up his drink but found it hand been pulled away, and a small hand now weighted the heavy base to prevent him drinking any.

“Are you gay?”

“W-what!? No, of course not.” Jean denied the accusation with a little too much haste, earning him a glare from the man sat across from him. “Not that I have a problem with gay people. No, no, I’m not…”

“He’s still in the closet, Erwin.”

“Levi, I told you not to ask him. I’m sorry Jean, but he means well in his own way.” Erwin apologised for his other half as if it had happened numerous times before. The blonde walked over and sat down with the other two men, having just a cappuccino for himself. “Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty certain. The last person I dated was definitely a woman.”

“It’s a shame. You’re handsome.” Erwin sighed and stirred his drink. “It was just with coming to visit us so often, and the lycra shorts.”

Jean looked mortified, opening his mouth to defend himself saying, “Many straight men wear running shorts,” which earned him a disbelieving nod from the two.

They all got about their business, Jean taking time to drink his coffee and read a newspaper, Levi cleaning the tables and floor until it shined, and Erwin readied the shop for the daily tirade of people. Once Jean had finished his coffee, he waved the two men goodbye and headed out for the run back home. The marina was situated not too far from his home, so it only took him five minutes to get back. Once there, he stripped of his sweat-drenched clothing and placed it in the basket in his room, stepping into the en suite and turning on the shower.

He got under the spray of water, showered quickly and then dried himself off, not wasting time loafing around. He slipped on a pair of green boxer briefs and headed into the kitchen, grabbing himself a banana, a yoghurt, some honey and a bowl. He scooped the Greek yoghurt from the pot into the bowl, and used his spoon to slice the banana into small pieces which littered the top of the yoghurt. He used a good squeeze of honey to sweeten his breakfast then ate slowly, savouring the natural flavours and not rushing as it is unhealthy to eat in such a manner. He washed his bowl and cutlery when finished, making sure to leave no mess for coming home from work to, which would undoubtedly end up piling up into an avalanche of dirty dishes.

With an hour left before having to leave for work, he sat on the couch and watched the news which just repeated the story of the burglar trio and something about a politician who wore round glasses with a thin frame being promoted. There were a few soap operas playing on other channels, obviously for those who work night shifts so they could catch up on the latest drama of Anthony stealing Maria away from her father. Jean grabbed a magazine and flicked through it. He then lay on his back and air cycled. Boredom had taken over the man, and he now stood in front of the mirror pinching his firm sides and pulling the waistband of his boxers outwards.

‘Do I have something about me that makes me look gay? I mean sure I look after myself, but it’s hardly abnormal’. Jean span around and grabbed his rear, looking at the reflection of it with scrutinising gaze. ‘I mean I’ve got the booty so I can see why guys want it, and it explains the stares I always got from Erwin as I left… But no. There’s no pink triangle on me.’

Jean though back to every relationship he had, and how each one had ended with his girlfriend saying ‘I don’t really think you’re interested in me. Maybe I’m not your type’ or with words to that effect, and maybe this was what they had meant. In frustration, he rubbed his head and threw himself onto his bed face first. He allowed his early mid-life crisis to leave his mind and focused on getting ready for work, making sure his uniform looked perfect. White shirt, black pants, polished shoes, police vest, badge and wallet. There was no wallet.

The officer panicked, getting on his hands and knees to look under the sofa in case it had fallen out of his pocket, but alas it wasn’t there; he had been pickpocketed by that blonde yesterday. Jean punched the back of the couch, knocking the upright cushions over which in anger he proceeded to fix and return them to their original stance. He grabbed his car keys and headed to the station, pouting and hunching over the steering wheel for the whole journey.

“Marco! My wallet with my ID was stolen!”

“Hello to you, too.” Freckles made a mock wave and patted his friend on the back, walking next to him down the hall. “Think it was the kid from last night?”

“It must have been him. I checked under the sofa and you know how tidy I keep my place so it definitely wasn’t lost in filth like how you lose things.” Marco received a death glare, for both asking a silly question and for having a dirty apartment. “I mean I’m no neat freak but god your place is a mess all the time. No wonder we always have game night at mine.”

“I need a wife for it. Marry me?” The question threw Jean off, as normally he would have played, but the topic he had shoved out of his mind popped straight back into it and instead of joking he had to turn away to hide his rising flush. “What? I didn’t honestly mean it. I mean sure if you were a chick I’d date you, you’d be my perfect type but come on, we’re best buds. Or have you realised?”

“Realised what?”

Marco turned and looked at his friend incredulously He then grabbed Jean by the arm and pulled him into a toilet in the style reminiscent of a stereotypical chick flick full of clichés and tropes.

“Look, I don’t normally like to say things like this: you’re gay. The whole department has been betting on when you’ll come out and if you do so now I’ll win a grand and we can split it.” Marco pointed at Jean, who had lost focus when the verbal vomit started. “I’ve been flattered when we’re changing and you have literally been thirsty for some of this-“ to which Marco ran both hands down his body, “and I’ve thought about reciprocating. Jean, it’s the twenty-first century. Nobody cares.”

Jean stared. It was all he could do, trying to take in what had just transpired in front of him, in the men’s toilets, at work. Had he just been “outed” in the worst place possible? A sigh; once again he rubbed his head.  
“Look, I don’t know if I am, but I may be. But, please don’t tell anyone about this or I will roast you on a grill and serve you to the dogs. Furthermore, nothing will change between us because of this. Got it?”

“Hey, everyone’s a little bit gay. I’m ninety-nice percent straight, but when we were first partners I had a revaluation but quickly realised it was because you were gay that I thought I felt something. And the fact you would gaze lovingly into my ass cheeks.”

“Shut up, dork.” Jean punched his friend in the arm, and the two broke down into hysterical laughter. “I never imagined coming out, but if I had it would not be like this.” He spoke through chuckles.

The two calmed down when another officer walked in and gave them a strange look. They left the bathroom muffling their mirth.

After the incident last night, there were no new reports as the two officers had been on scene, so there was a quick briefing on the evidence they had gained for the night patrol, then it was off onto the streets. Because of their blunder, Pixis had assigned them street beat, which entailed walking around the city shopping centres all day and handling boring petty crimes such as women starting a fight over a discount item or kids being vandals. It was always used as punishment as the next day was spent doing massive amounts of paperwork on what had happened, regardless of whether any crimes were committed or not. Jean hated it. Really hated it.

***

“We can’t make any moves for a while now we’ve been spotted. We’ll have to let the heat die down a bit before we can start our raids again, so we may as well just try and live life normally for now. We should still be able to do day time recon as long as we avoid the one officer who knows what Eren and I look like.”

“Won’t they try and profile us so other officers can spot us?”

“It’d be pointless, because they haven’t seen you,” Armin nodded indicating to Mikasa, answering her question, “and describing two teenagers, one with blonde hair and blue eyes and the other with brown and green wouldn’t really get them anywhere. On top of that, I was the only one Kirschstein saw clearly which leaves them with only one suspect they can even begin to profile.”

Mikasa accepted the reasoning and returned to washing the dishes from their lunch. Eren tidied the small cottage and Armin sat at the table, pouring over different types of maps that were spread across the oaken surface. Topographic, street, thematic maps of celebrity and politicians’ homes, each one displayed the workings of Trost city and provided the blonde with the insight he needed to take on any challenge. He grabbed his pen and crossed through intersections, then dragged another map and noted how the land forms rose and fell. Yes! Everything was a tool for him to use.

“What do we do today then? I’m bored” Eren flopped onto the table and covered Armin’s maps, which would have greatly frustrated him if he weren’t already used to the brunette’s unruly behaviour. After so many years of being together, Armin had adapted to the way Eren would bother him, which he pinned down to the spark the boy had, always wanting to do that much more. If he had been bad at a game, then he’d want to keep playing until eventually he would win every time. Armin would only ever remain undefeated in games of tactics and intelligence, as Eren often became too heated and made a wrong move which would cataclysmically destroy his chances of winning.

“I need to buy some things for a later operation.”

“We also needed some food.” Mikasa spoke curtly, adding what was necessary and relieving Armin of the burden of dealing with her adopted brother alone.

“City it is!” Eren pumped his fist in the air, running outside to the little shed, pulling out the bicycles they used as non-criminal transportation.

Eren was dressed for the weather, wearing a black vest and denim shorts. Mikasa was much more reserved in her showing of skin, choosing to wear a pair of black skinny jeans and a white blouse, to which she added her trademark red scarf, but adorning the one made of chiffon rather than the heavy woollen version. Armin tried to cover up his fair skin to avoid being burned by the sun, so like Mikasa he wore black skinny jeans and a white shirt, but added a large, black sun hat which obscured his face from the blistering heat.

The three leisurely pedalled down the dirt road that connected to one of the major routes going out of Trost. Dust swirled and stormed under their wheels as they scraped against the ground, the occasional stone making a popping sound as the tyre rolled over it, flicking out to the side in response to the pressure. Armin rode at the back as he tended to be the weakest, whilst Eren raced off at the front and Mikasa monitored her two boys, making sure one didn’t rush off and the other left behind.

The green frame of Armin’s bike had scuffs running up and down it, indicating its age; the basket that sat on the front also showed signs of frequent use, obviously from carrying sundries of some measure. The boy reminisced on how his grandfather would sit him in the basket and ride through the fields of Shiganshina, allowing his grandson to honk the little comedy horn at the old ladies as they strolled past. A sigh; pedal faster.

The cottage had also belonged to the old man, and he had bequeathed it onto the blonde when he passed away not long before his birth village was to be erased, washed away with a little water. He had fallen ill upon the news that he would have to relocate. It had been cancer, unpredictable, but Armin knew it was their damned fault. Those foul, corrupted politicians. His grandfather gave up on life. His home would no longer exist. All his memories gone forever.

His death had been easy. He had accepted the new start but Armin was not ready to lose the only family he had left, and so he pounded on his chest and pushed the organ back into rhythm but it would not beat again. The soul of the old man had been walked into oblivion.

Young age rapidly when forced into unrelenting situations. That was what had happened, and now there was no return. What was left was a mingling of adult resentment and a lingering for childhood, a melancholic gaze into frivolousness. 

After half an hour of unhurried pedalling, the three arrived at their destination, a shopping mall in the heart of Trost. It held most types of stores, acting as a hub for the local community so that everything they could need was condensed into a small are. Bikes were chained to appropriate railings, then the three headed inside.

“What do we need?”

“We need some climbing gear and a few bits I can pick up from the supermarket when you’re getting food.”

“Sweet. Mikasa and I will go food shopping. You get your stuff and we’ll see you in the supermarket. Have you got your phone?” 

Armin responded by waving the small device in the air; it was cheap but functional. The blonde was used to doing things on his own, as he had spent most of his days pursuing solo activities before he had met the brother and sister, and even then he had become used to being excluded from their pairing, because that was the way the two of them lived. It wasn’t that they didn’t consider Armin, but saw him as a separate unit within their group.

Armin walked into the hiking store, looked around to try and gauge his bearings when an older man, probably in his mid thirties and still trying to maintain his teenage years with the fact he was wearing a far too tight shirt and showing a little too much hairy leg in his shorts. The man was well defined, certainly, but there was a repulsiveness to be able to see every line of taut muscle under the cotton as it screamed ‘I’m sexy and I know it’.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Are you sure a little lady like you doesn’t need any help?” Armin visibly recoiled at the accidental insult the man had delivered. The blonde took off his oversized hat and smiled at the pig, who assumed the blonde was simply a woman because of the way he was dressed.

“Let me assure you something, sir: firstly, I am no woman regardless of how I may appear so, to which that’s now most certainly clicked. Secondly, just because someone is a woman does not mean they are incapable of knowing about sporting pursuits. Or is that too difficult for a chauvinist pig to understand.” The store assistant’s eye twitched, but he had to keep smiling through the verbal onslaught as he was the one in the wrong. Armin placed a hand delicately on firm bicep and said, “Actually, you can help me.” The blonde proceeded to tell the man exactly what he wanted, detailing the specifics brands and models he required.

He was guided around the aisles by the man who thankfully knew the store well enough that the trip was only brief. They collected what Armin needed and went to the checkouts. A young red head served Armin, and he saw the name ‘Petra on her badge. The cashier wasn’t so much interested with him as the man beside him, Oulo.

Oulo escorted Armin to the exit with his purchases, offering him an apology. The blonde stopped and turned to the man, just before leaving.

“That girl, Petra, seems to like you a lot. Drop the macho act, dress your age and ask the poor woman out on a date.”

“Wha-?” The man was so shocked he bit on his tongue, hastily covering his mouth in pain.

Armin chuckled to himself as he walked off, mentally praising himself for his good deed of the day. It’s ironic, he thought, how he saw himself as the do-gooder, yet he was branded as a criminal by the city. Well, if only they knew. He headed across the mall, bee-lining for the supermarket, taking large strides so that he would get there as fast as possible. He grabbed his mobile from his pants pocket, flipping the screen up and scrolling through until he reached Eren’s name. He dialled, and the brunette picked up after a couple of rings.

Just as the blonde answered, he froze in middle of the busy shopping centre, ignoring the calls of the people who bumped into him.

‘Fuck! Why is he here!?’ Armin panicked as he saw the police officer from the night before walking towards him. He panicked, pulled his hat down over his face and calmly walked on. 

“Roll with me, Eren.” The blonde whispered into the phone, hoping the brunette would somehow understand the situation psychically. “And so, oh my god, I can’t believe Tommy did that. It was so rude, and plus all the girl’s think he’s stupid.” The high pitched bitching drew quick glances, but hid his true identity well enough as the two uniformed men gazed at the top of his hat, to which Armin thanked his short stature, and they walked closer. Tempting fate, Armin leaned to the right and purposely collided with the officer.

“Sorry, Miss.” Kirschstein tipped his head forward in apology.

Armin walked past them, talking into his phone loudly with the same affectation, “My god, can you believe some people, Melody. So rude.”

“Do you want to tell me why you’re speaking like that?” Eren sounded genuinely confused, and he could imagine the brunette shrugging to Mikasa as she contemplated which biscuits to buy.

“Let’s just say I had a very close encounter. Where about in the store are you?”

“Down the biscuit aisle.” Armin held in a laugh as his exact image of the two was most likely spot on.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon. I’ll tell you what happened when I get there.”

***

“Hey, my police wallet!” Jean grinned to Marco as he grabbed the object out of his back pocket. Then, sudden realisation crossed his mind and his face paled.

“WHAT THE HELL!?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Who are we going for?”

A week had passed since their last attack, allowing the media to cool down with only online blogs spouting utter nonsense, such as knowing who the robin hoods are or that it’s some government plot to make citizens more law conscious. Wildfire rumours had spread and thankfully most were completely off the mark. However, there had been some lucky guesses, but mostly about their getaway vehicle or their entry methods but thankfully nothing about the perpetrators themselves, otherwise the flames would have had to be extinguished for certain people. Precautions had to be taken, or the whole thing could come crashing down with tremendous fashion straight on top of the teenagers, pinning down under a life of incarceration.

“It’s not who, but what.” Eren responded by giving Armin a confused look, who then went on to elaborate further. “Our target is TADA, the Trostian Artistic Development Association, and more specifically the gallery they’re opening.”

“The one focusing on pastoral works.” The statement seemed like a question. However, the lack of intonation from Mikasa indicated her knowledge, showing a portion of the secret prowess the stoic girl retained.

“Pastoral?”

“An art form that depicts an idealised landscape, often concerning natural beauty and an easy going lifestyle.”

“But why would we even care about that? This isn’t for the money, Armin.”

“You may care when I tell you some of the works are from artists in Shiganshina.” The brunette seemed shocked to hear about it, the village not renowned for artwork, or for anything. “The pieces were dated to being fifty to two-hundred years old, so even though they may not be applicable to our time, they’re still a part of our history.”

“And we cannot let anyone take that from us, Eren.” The girl crumpled a newspaper article in her hand; the article had been detailing the pieces to be put into exhibition. The smiling faces of the trust founders turned awry under the might of the black-haired girl, her physical suppression altering their very image.

“We won’t. This will be the biggest thing we’ve done, and may ever do, so I need you both to be physically and mentally prepared for this.” Armin rose from his chair at the table, using both hands to push himself up. He looked up with a half-smile on his face, his eyes vivacious, livid with excitement and fear equally. “Are you – are you still willing to do this?”

Two nods with no hesitation.

Whirling blades hypnotised the blonde as he sat staring down into the clear waters of the river Trost as it passed through the wall of concrete and fell into the ravine below, slowly creeping its way into the seas and then into the oceans, a part of something bigger. Yet humans had still tainted the natural process using sheer force as an obstruction to flow, making purposeful eddies and useful reservoir, functionality visible to most. Armin’s legs swung over the side, tempting fate, tempting nature to latch onto him and pull him into itself, make him whole and make him none. Nihilism.

“Grandfather… will you even know what we’re doing? Do you think? Is there a world beyond?” A cold wind tapped the boy once or twice on the shoulder, easily mistaken for a hand and the boy was fooled into spinning his head around and looking. And sighing.

Wash away your sins, the waters bellowed between their groans. Harmonious songs of waterfalls; ride us into hell, Armin, because that’s where you’ll be going. He stood. He rocked, teetering over the edge, letting the air give him the gentle push he needed. Fly, bird, fly free from this cage. He jumped.

“Kid, wake up.” Armin gasped as he was shaken from his dream. He was still sat there, legs dangling over the edge but now one of the security guards had joined him, hand on his shoulder as the man shook him awake. “Get out of here or I’ll have to report you to the police.” The blonde swallowed nervously and stood up, walking off with embarrassed haste.

‘How could I have fallen asleep in a place like that? We could have easily lost all that we have worked for through one simple mistake. I’m just tired, stressed; I need to sleep for once and not just doze off. And what was that dream even about? I had even realised I had fallen asleep. It was so real. Is that what I want? No, I can’t let Mikasa and Eren down… They can’t do it without me.’ He stopped dead in his tracks, now back on the plains, about half a kilometre from his home. He could see a light on inside and a figure wandering around outside. ‘Could they do it without me? All I am is brains. Some of the easier stunts they could have done without me…’

Now closer to the cottage, he dragged his feet through the grass, scuffing the front of his shoes with mud. The boy worried, he doubted his ability, his true ability that the siblings and even his grandfather a long time ago had seen. He had not yet found it, for he mistakenly thinks it is his intellectual prowess, but it is much more profound than that. He tarnished himself, and his shoes with his doubts.

“Armin! We’ve been worried. You were gone for a while.” Eren called to the blonde, who was now about ten metres away. The brunette noticed the lack of enthusiasm in his partner and ran over to him.

“You okay, bro?”

“I’ll be fine.” A reticent smile. “I just need to push myself. And sleep. Definitely sleep.” The bluntness drew a laugh from Eren, who patted Armin on the back and led him inside with an arm draped over the smaller boy’s shoulder.

“We have told you.”

“Told him what?” Armin groaned, as he could feel the Mikasa lecture coming.

“To sleep.”

“Oh. And eat healthily. How do you expect to gain any muscle. It’s a dangerous job Armin.” The blonde couldn’t hold in his laughter, and he started to chuckle, which developed into laughter and then he was a mess on the floor. This was his perfect family. The siblings just stared at him as he writhed, clutching his stomach.

“I think he definitely needs some sleep.”

“More importantly, it’s time we start.” 

They garnered their gear, shoved the miscellaneous equipment into a duffel bag and roughly threw it all into the back of the van, metal latches and hooks clanging together to make a cacophony which echoed in the small space. The mobile being chortled to itself as the engine was ignited; it had obviously found something amusing. Huff; puff; the exhaust blew out some dust it had picked up from the sandy road so that it could breathe life into every part and create energy, electricity using turbines to power itself and carry the users away on their mission. Off they went, the black van bounding basely to its destination, ignorant of any traffic on the road.

Autumn always gave still nights in Trost, even when the rain howled, the wind would not blow, giving the drops of water a globular effect as they sliced through the mist and then exploded as they hit the ground, but their collateral damage was little as no blast of air gave them edge. Armin was thankful for it, for piercing rain made things so much harder, and truthfully the rain made him woeful. The sublime essence of nature, the ability to rend man, made him feel all too powerless, yet powerful as he could withstand the torrent, he was effectually within and without simultaneously. Like the rain, he could strike unexpectedly, do nothing, and do everything. But it was not raining, the air was silent and the sky was cloudless – a good omen.

Despite the appearance of their transport, nobody seemed to suspect anything. If a person were to avoid every black vehicle and stare at it suspiciously, they would be indoors and could never take their eyes off the road. It was so outlandish that it was easily mistaken for that of a simple business: maybe they were an up and coming delivery service, a motile dog grooming parlour, an endless list of potentiality. To be in disguise, a person had to be as plain as possible. Would you hide in a crowd by wearing a prison outfit? No, of course not.

“Pull over here.” Eren did as commanded, stopping onto the hard shoulder of a road next to a cliff facing. The northern side of Trost was littered with tall hills that had been developed on, often for the rich to give a sublime view of the glittering city. A perfect coincidence. 

“Where are we?” Mikasa’s question.

“We’re right under the site of the new museum. It’s a hundred feet ascent up to the top, so it’s not exactly a point that needs defence, as normal people really wouldn’t want to climb up a sheer cliff face. Thankfully, we’re abnormal.” Armin began to belt up in the climbing gear, tucking pegs into the best he had clipped around his waist.

“Armin, you’re not going to climb up there.”

“Why not?” A sharp tone, the brunette raised his hands in submission, not wanting to cause an argument. The blonde was tired of being treated like a child.

“Neither of you are; I am.” Mikasa unbuckled Armin, not giving chance for protest. “I’m the fittest here, you can come up after me when the pegs are in.” Armin blushed and backed down, knowing what the girl said to be true. 

The two boys stood at the bottom of the cliff, looking up as their friend ascended the sheer rock facing with undaunted speed. The pegs she had placed into the wall had no guarantee of keeping her on if she fell, which at ten feet would be no problem, but at fifty feet, falling from that height would do some serious damage. Her final peg was stabbed in, and she climbed over the precipice, stabbing a hook into the softer soil to hold everything in place and create a pulley system. Eren harnessed up and made his ascent, following the same path of his sister, leaving Armin and his gear at the bottom.

“Hook yourself in and we’ll pull you up.” The whispered shout came from the brunette, who had popped his head over the edge. Armin clipped his laptop bag onto the pulley, pretending to have strapped his climbing belt onto it as well. He have the rope two tugs, and the laptop ascended, and whilst that shot up, he started climbing up the rock facing.

He huffed and puffed, no more than twenty feet high he had already begun to tire out. His friends had obviously become suspicious at the weight they had pulled up, knowing Armin to not be the light despite his small frame. Two heads peered over, looking down at the struggling blonde who had now made his way another ten feet up.

“You didn’t have to climb.”

“I – I wanted to.” The words came out in breathless puffs, the boy struggling to catch his breath as he used every shot of energy to fling himself up to his destination. Almost there, he could see the end goal, see his ambition come true, to not be anything less than his comrades, to not hold them back. He was almost there, one last piece of rock to grab onto…

“Armin!”

His footing crumbled; his heart dropped; his body fell.

A strong hand grabbed his, and the blonde looked up to see Eren, whom Mikasa had hold of tightly as he had flung himself down to grab his friend. The brunette was struggling but smiling; the dichotomous influence of adrenaline coursing through him, through his fingers straight into Armin’s body. Both were laughing, half fearful half in enjoyment, whilst Mikasa used her brother’s waist to drag the pair to safety. 

“Thanks.”

“I thought… I thought you were going to die.”

“Pegs, idiot.” Armin smiled at Eren, sat with hands behind his back to support his aching frame.

“Oh. I forgot.”

“You could have died. What would have happened if I hadn’t grabbed a hold of you?” More scolding from Mikasa, who was now rubbing her hands, fingers in pain from quickly catching her brother.

After much bickering and resting, they grabbed their things and marched up to the back of the art gallery, staying a few metres away in a bit of shrubbery. Armin opened his laptop back, pulling out his own customised model, a memory stick, and a set of earpieces which he distributed amongst the three of them.

“Hopefully, we’ll be able to connect to their Wi-Fi even when we’re outside. If I can do that, I can connect to their systems as they should be, in theory, using the same network and have everything all on one large system. Once I’ve bugged their computer system, I’ll create a looped feed on the video surveillance so it will look like we haven’t even been here.”

“Won’t they be able to track us through our IP, and they’ll have a firewall, won’t they?” Eren, unlike Mikasa, held an interest in technology, showing that there was a brain behind the quick-to-anger exterior.

“I have an IP blocker on my memory stick; it should jam the feed and scramble the IP address of my computer, making it into useless data. As for the firewall, when I get into their network, if everything is on the same shared one, then I should be able to inject my rootkit through the firewall without any detection as it will be masked as an update from a verified application. Then, I’ll be in and we shouldn’t have any problems.” 

“What about guards?”

“Other than those on the doors in the day, there seemed to be none. I doubt there will be night patrol, they’ll be relying on the extremely low crime rate and video security. Just stay quiet and should there be somebody in the surveillance room, they won’t notice you there at all.”

Nods of affirmation, then the siblings sorted things out between themselves, hooking grapples onto their bodies and proceeding to thread nylon ropes through the gaps and securing them with a knot. Armin typed away on the laptop, switching between periods of intense mashing and placating stillness, the screen in front of him just a blaring of fast paced numbers and self-constructed algorithms that worked away at his bidding. The screen changed, showing what would be now on the monitor in the surveillance room. A feed for around sixteen cameras all spread out around the compound; the blonde flicked through them all, stopping on the one closest to them. A little mound of black could be seen, but it would be unnoticeable without some prior knowledge of someone or something being there.

“Eren, just squat a little lower.” The boy did as told. “Great. And the loop has been made. We have probably at least an hour before whoever is on duty is noticing no change outside, but we should be in and out within that time. Ready?”

“Mhm.” The replies in sync.

The siblings shot off, heading straight for the nearest drainpipe which they scaled with practiced ease until they stood on top of the sloped roof of the gallery. The skylights showed no activity inside the building, so the two moved in their crouching position to a window that sat over a clearing that could be dropped down into, avoiding flimsy stands with slumping pottery made by some half-baked artists. Mikasa grabbed a Stanley knife and sliced out the rubber sealing from the sides of the frame, exposing the small metal latch that held the window in place. She loosened the holding by releasing a screw and it moved just enough to slide the window up and create an entry point.

Eren hooked their grapple onto a piece of firmly set piping, and they consecutively lowered themselves into the large atrium. The pieces of art all remained exposed, but in the dark they had little worth as all seemed formless and bland. Mikasa held up the dull torch to each of the paintings, trying to find the ones that Armin had shown her. Eren did the same, heading in another direction through strangely placed walls that simply sat in the middle of the room at awkward angles. Art. They located the pieces of work, placed on a wall that had been painted with a generic countryside landscape.

“We’ve got them Armin.”

“Okay, grab them and get ready to go.” Armin placed his computer on the floor, grabbing something from his bag in the process then tested the drainpipe his friends had ascended. He raised a foot and pushed it against the wall whilst holding onto the chill metal, using the leverage to swing himself up. He followed the same route, clipped himself onto the rope that hung limply into the building and scaled down into the dark.

“Armin. What are you doing?” The panicked voice came from Eren, who unceremoniously tried to push Armin back up the rope and out of the art gallery. The blonde persisted with his descent and once his feet touched the floor, he brushed himself off and grabbed the can that he had tucked under his arm. He shook it, the small marble inside shouting loudly as it was jigged from here to there inside its confines.

“Don’t tell me-“ but before Mikasa could finish, Armin had already sprayed the first letter onto the wall where one of the stolen pictures once lay, the hissing of pressurised air releasing a blast of paint being enough to silence the girls. The letter, a ‘T’, was slowly added to, each stroke of the can creating a new shape and forming new words until a whole constructed sentence had formed under the blonde’s handiwork.

THE YEARS OF PLENTY ARE OVER, MY FRIENDS…


End file.
